


God Bless Potholes

by Spones-in-my-bones (KoruLunan)



Category: Psych
Genre: ? - Freeform, Bickering, But different, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoruLunan/pseuds/Spones-in-my-bones
Summary: Carlton Lassiter would rather stick his entire head into a hungry tiger's mouth than let Shawn Spencer drive his Cherry Red Crown Vic. But when the detective is too sick to drive back from a case, what other choice does he have?Juliet. She's the other choice. Doesn't stop Shawn from wiggling his way into the backseat with the detective, though.(Written in 2014 and just skimmed for typos before posting. Otherwise it would have sat in my WIPs for YEARS.)





	God Bless Potholes

Lassie rounded the car with Jules and Shawn hot on his tail. The two ran up to him before he even touched the driver's door handle.

"Woah, woah. Please tell me you're not thinking about driving."

Lassiter shot Shawn a confused look. "Of course I am. It's  _ my _ car," His eyes narrowed at Shawn from under his sunglasses, "Police issued and brand-spanking new, so don't get any ideas about driving it-not even a single  _ fragment _ of a thought."

"As much as I would love to drive your ‘Cherry Red Crown Vic’, and trust me, I would, I was actually referring to your current stuffiness of the head and other related bodily parts."

"What?"

"What Shawn's  _ trying _ to say,” Juliet explained as she approached the two men, “Is that you're sick, Carlton, and in no condition to drive," 

"I'm fine, O'hara. I just took down and arrested a criminal not five minutes ago. I think i'm okay to  _ drive _ ."

"Ah, yes. Especially convincing when you sneezed all over the suspect while reading him his rights," Shawn added.

"I have allergies, Spencer,” Lassiter pointed a defensive finger in the detective’s direction, “And that man was covered head to toe in pet dander."

"Odd, since that man has a dander allergy as well-"

"Alright look," Juliet interrupted, holding a hand out towards each of them. "You're sick,” She looked to her partner, "And not going to drive until I know you're well enough." 

Lassie opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Juliet's glare. "And Shawn's not going to drive,” She turned to flick a stern finger at Shawn before he could protest, “I am. And you're sitting in the back, Carlton. If you get sick, you're not doing it on  _ my _ side of the car."

"Well, alright, but I call shotgun!" Shawn exclaimed, punching the air.

"No. The last time you rode shotgun with me, you formed a gun with your hand and hung outside the car window, pretending we were in a high speed chase."

"Well, we were doing 25, so it wasn't necessarily high speed. Plus, if neither Lassie or I are riding shotgun, who is? You can't drive a cop car with people in it and /not/ have someone riding shotgun. It's inhumane, Jules."

"’Inhumane’ or not, it's what's happening." Juliet commented as she held her hand out towards Lassie, looking at him expectantly. 

After a few moments of hesitation -- and a surprising array of frustrated expressions -- Lassie  (almost literally) coughed up the keys and handed them to his partner before reluctantly climbing into the back seat of the car.

Jules climbed into the driver's seat, reaching over to lock the passenger door before Shawn could make it around the car to open it. 

"Not cool, Jules." Shawn commented with a small, disapproving shake of his head. Defeated, he crawled into the back seat of the car, a single seat's space away from the grumbling, despondent detective. "Look at the bright side, Lassie. At least I'm here to keep you company."

Even from behind his sunglasses, Shawn could see the deepening glare the man was giving him. "O'Hara. Drive." Lassie grumbled, letting out a sigh as his partner obliged and the car kicked into motion. "The faster we leave the faster I can go home, sleep, and forget about this whole situation."

"Don't forget the chicken noodle soup. It's an important part of the healing process. It has to have those star-shaped noodles, though. Without them, well, life just feels less complete."

"Will you /please/ just grant me some silence? My head's pounding enough without your constant jabbering."

"That's cold, Lassie. I'd hardly call it 'jabbering'. I prefer Multiloquence."

"I don't care what you call it, just please shut up." Lassie leaned his head back against the headrest. He let out a long, frustrated breath that briefly shuddered alongside the rest of his body. Shawn watched him closely, noting when it happened a second time, this instance with a longer shudder. "O'Hara, can you turn down the heat? It's a sauna in here."

Juliet paused, shooting Shawn a worried glance from the rear view mirror. "Carlton, it's 65 in here. Your heat hasn't even kicked in yet."

Lassie slumped further back into his seat, muttering less-than-appropriate words as he rubbed a hand down his face, knocking his glasses off a bit.

"Woah, Lassie." Shawn commented, both eyebrows raised in surprise as he got a glimpse of Lassie's eyes under the glasses. "I didn't notice with the glasses on, but you don't look like you've had a lick of sleep in days." 

"That's probably because I haven't. Decent sleep, at least," He commented gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Kinda hard to when your body won't let you." He yawned. 

Shawn and Jules were silent for a few moments. Neither had known Lassie was /this/ sick. The man had a cruel predilection for hiding his illness whenever he was sick, but they usually faded fairly quickly.. or at least it seemed like it. Shawn wondered just how many nights the detective had spent alone, taking care of himself while he was sick.

The car stopped at a red light, and a grin slowly crept onto Shawn's face. After fumbling a bit with the bag he had with him, Shawn tossed something over his shoulders and unbuckled his seatbelt. He quickly moved over to the center seat, directly Beside Lassie, and rebuckled the belt.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lassie inquired, feeling the dip in the pleather seats, and especially the sudden coolness flowing into his body from where Shawn's side made contact with his own.

"I'm helping you out. You said you're hot, and seeing how your A/C isn’t working, I'm here to help. This leather jacket retains the cold pretty well,” Shawn snapped his fingers and waggled finger guns in the detective’s direction, “It’s both cool and  _ cool _ !”

"Ohmygod," Lassie slumped farther down into his seat and brought his arms tighter around his sides. "I don't need your help. I can maintain my own body temperature, thank you."

With a green light, the car jumped back into motion and the psychic's grin widened even more. "Sorry, the car's moving. I can't take my seatbelt off now. I don't want to get pulled over by a cop, and even worse, possibly get Jules in trouble."

"This /is/ a cop car, Spencer. We /do/ the pulling over."

"Sorry, Lassie. Laws are laws."

Untucking his arms, Lassie brought both of his hands up to rub his face, exhausted. To be honest, the coolness was nice, and within moments Lassie caught himself leaning into the man's touch, quickly stiffening up as soon as he regained his senses. Well, mostly anyway. They continued to fade in and out, Lassie constantly tightly closing his eyes and blinking to try and keep himself awake.

He was almost home. Just a bit more.

"You still alive, Lassie?" Shawn inquired, waving a hand in front of the man's covered eyes. 

There was a small, hushed grumble from the detective. 

Shawn slowly brought a single finger up towards Lassie's face, proceeding to touch the tip of his nose and produce a small 'boop' sound. He did this twice more before realizing he wasn't going to get a response. "Well, that's certainly asleep, then."

The second Shawn removed his hand from his fellow detective's face, the car bounced a bit, with it causing Lassie's head to slump and rest to its side, atop Shawn's shoulder.

Shawn started slightly, unsure if he should move the detective back to his normal resting position. Although, it would be such a shame to disturb such a peaceful sleep...

"Hey, Jules. How much longer until we're at his place?"

"Ten minutes."

"Perfect. Follow up question: Do you have a sharpie?"  
  



End file.
